


Saving Face

by shadowolfhunter



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Scars, Woge, serious injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 13:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3449555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowolfhunter/pseuds/shadowolfhunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Juliette needs to tell Nick something. It doesn't go according to plan. And Nick needs to realise something about himself and especially about wesen. The Captain gets the brunt of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saving Face

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. There's this thing on tumblr, and it got my brain thinking. Nick was pretty bitchy to Adalind (okay, she kinda deserved it) and Sean (who really didn't deserve it), but now Juliette is a hexenbiest is he going to re-think his dick response? This is going to be jossed, but at the end of the day, I suspect Juliette is going to regret Nick finding out.

It had been several weeks since Juliette had angrily split up with him, and Nick couldn’t say he could blame her.

After what he had said to her, his beautiful girlfriend was a hexenbiest, she had trusted him and what had he done? Berated her. It had swiftly degenerated into a nasty row. Juliette had been livid, and she had had a point, but Nick was still in shock. Surely she could see that? He hadn’t really meant it.

She had stormed upstairs, packed furiously, descended the stairs lugging a huge suitcase, and then left him with a stinging parting shot. “At least when I told Sean Renard, he tried to help, tried to understand. All you’ve done is take cheap shots at what this looks like.”

He couldn’t help it. It just kinda slipped out.

He wasn’t about to forget the icy look that came over Juliette’s face, when she recalled the conversation they’d had about Adalind months before, and what he had said to the blonde.

“Suddenly I find myself with sympathy for Adalind, now isn’t that a turn up for the books?” Juliette hissed before turning on her heel. 

“Where are you going?” Now Nick was starting to panic a little, he’d never meant things to go this far, he loved Juliette.

She paused by the front door. “Somewhere where someone actually cares.” She fixed him with her stare. “And don’t bother chasing after me.”

“Renard.” Nick’s Grimm growled, now really spoiling for a fight.

“No.” Head held high, Juliette’s expression changed, as she remembered something, “though I have sympathy for him too. I am so glad I found out that looks are your sole criterion.”

With that she had just walked out.

The first week he’d alternately pined and told himself that he was better off without a hexenbiest in his life. 

The second week he’d brooded angrily about the unfairness of life. He was a Grimm, she was a hexenbiest and his mortal enemy, how did she expect him to react?

The third week, he started to really think about it.

“You’re attracted to that? Really?” It was obvious that Adalind didn’t actually care about what he thought of her hexenbiest appearance. In fact, from what he recalled of that night, there was a flash of triumph in her eyes as she threw him her most taunting smile. Renard had dragged them back on topic, but not before Nick was certain he had seen a flash of real hurt in the Captain’s eyes, before it was perfectly masked.

In trying to taunt Adalind about her appearance, he’d actually taunted the Captain too. Adalind didn’t care, but the more Nick thought about it, Renard did.

Nick thought back over the months since that day, and realized that not only did Juliette have a point, but Sean Renard hadn’t woged in front of Nick since. If anything he’d gone out of his way not to woge in front of Nick. Yet he’d apparently happily woged in front of Monroe and Hank.

It wasn’t as though Renard gratuitously woged all over the place, on the contrary, the Captain was a master of self-control, it was over a year after Nick came into his Grimm that he even found out that his disciplined and intelligent senior officer was wesen.

It had definitely been hurt in Renard’s eyes.

It painted a picture of himself that Nick really didn’t like. He was being a dick. He had been a dick to Adalind, thus presumably confirming her own prejudices, he’d been a dick to Juliette, who now had cause to fear and avoid him. Well that was just a genius move, wasn’t it?

But he’d also been a dick to Renard, who couldn’t avoid him, and basically had to look at him every day, presumably a wonderful daily reminder of being called hideous.

Nice… just nice.

Nick actually wanted to bang his head hard on the desk in front of him. He’d spent so much time thinking about being a Grimm and how much everything meant to him, and the whole self-centred thing about everything to do with his life, and Juliette, and even his Captain.

Shit.

He wondered if the next step was lopping off heads; because it sure felt like it.

Then he wondered about fixing it. Adalind was god knew where. And given the full-on biest fight that had taken place in his living room, she was unlikely to allow him near her even if he could find her. Sean possibly knew where she was, but it was impossible to ask him, and anyway, didn’t Nick owe Sean an apology too? Juliette. Well he knew where she worked… He thought he would start with Juliette. After all, she loved him, didn’t she?

“What do you want, Nick?” If anything the chilly exit had grown into something even colder.

“I’m sorry.”

Juliette gave him a steely glare. “Really?” She put her hands on her hips, staring hard at him. Nick shifted a little, because this was a hell of a lot more uncomfortable than he thought it would be. “Waltz in here, say sorry, all is forgiven?”

She turned to her assistant. “Would you mind giving us a minute?” Nick did not miss the warmth directed at her young nurse, but the eyes grew harder as she turned back to her former boyfriend.

“I accept your apology, because I need to move on. However, moving on means just that. I am moving on. I was there for you Nick. I risked my life for you. My life was turned upside down and inside out, and I nearly died directly because of you. I have been through things I never believed were even possible. All for you.” She gave him a searching look, there was no real anger, or fear or anything else that Nick could hold on to as his dream crumbled around him. “I needed one thing from you, Nick. One thing. And that didn’t happen.”

Juliette walked towards the door, “now I have patients. This thing between us… No more Nick. Just no more.”

He walked through the door in a daze, wondering just how the hell things had come to this.

Remembering his own shame in events.

A couple of weeks after his horrible, abortive attempt to get Juliette back, Nick decided to tackle the one person who wasn’t out of sight, who really couldn’t avoid him. The Captain.

So how do you casually drop an apology that you never meant to hurt a man’s feelings into an everyday conversation when he’s your Captain, and you’ve already lost your nerve two or three times?

Until the day of the crack den raid, where everything got much, much worse.

They had a suspect, they knew they were going to need all hands on this one, Renard would lead the raid, flak vests were not optional and it would not go down easy.

They were inside, and somehow their man was behind them, Nick was the closest, he never even saw the knife, because suddenly Renard was between him and the door frame, and then Renard had nowhere to go, and then he was falling back against the wall, screaming in pain.

Nick was there, arm around his Captain’s waist, as Renard slumped back against the wall, clutched a hand to his right cheek, eyes closed, blood welling through his fingers.

What do you say to the man who’s just had his face slashed saving you from that or worse? How do you apologize for what you said before?

Nick has to stick close because this time he really owes Renard. And Renard is going through hell because of Nick. Shit, this is so messed up.

He waits at the hospital as Renard’s injury is assessed, the cut’s bad, it needs stitches, and Nick knows without asking that it’s going to scar.

The doctor seems to have forgotten that Nick’s in the room, because he mentions corrective surgery, it’s not like he could have known what Nick said, but Nick catches Sean’s eye just then, at that exact moment, and sees Renard’s guard slip, sees green eyes dulled by pain that isn’t just physical, and knows that he’s got a lot to feel guilty for. 

For whatever reason, Renard values Nick’s opinion, valued it that night when Nick pulled his dick move and did what even Renard’s relatives hadn’t apparently managed to do, wound the Captain deeply. With words.

Nick knows his Captain isn’t vain, or particularly concerned with appearance for appearance’s sake, but he’s a handsome guy, Nick knows the Captain is well aware of this, and now…

All Renard is really aware of is that his face hurts like fuck, and Nick Burkhardt is looking at him with something that Renard hopes is what he thinks it is. 

He remembers what Nick said all those months ago, it hurt. It still hurts, but Renard knows that Nick didn’t really mean it the way it sounded. He hasn’t missed the looks Nick’s been giving him, he reads between the lines, knows that Nick wants to say sorry but doesn’t know how, and Renard can empathize with that.

In his wildest dreams Sean imagines finding his way to Nick’s heart. But now?

He watches Nick as the doctor prepares to stitch Sean’s wound, there’s a look in Nick’s eyes that is pure sorrow. Sean just wants the thing over and done with, so he lies back, submits to a local, and tries not to mind when the doctor places tape over his right eye, so that he can’t see the needle going through the torn flaps of his skin.

He keeps close watch on Nick with his left eye, Nick moves closer to the gurney, he looks like he wants to take Sean’s hand, but doesn’t know how to, or is too embarrassed to with Sean watching.

Sean needs that contact, he turns his hand, palm up on the bed, fingers loosely curled, an invitation. Closes his eye. For a long moment, he’s bereft, then a warm hand takes his, ever so gently.

Nick watches as the doctor slowly stitches Sean’s ruined cheek, tiny, tiny stitches to minimize scarring, tries to send good, warm, encouraging vibes through his hold on Sean’s hand, feels the vague tremble in the long elegant fingers wrapped around his and just wishes that he could take this all back, or wrap the Captain up and protect him from this pain. A pain for which Nick is actually responsible.

The doctor finishes up, and steps away to get a dressing. Sean turns his head a little, and Nick gets the full view of the wound. It starts by Sean’s right ear, and curves up a little to end just beneath Sean’s right eye.

That’s when it hits Nick how close Sean came to losing his eye. Nick’s fingers convulse around Sean’s hand, as the doctor returns and proceeds to dress the wound.

Sean mistakes the jolt of shock for Nick’s horror at Sean’s appearance, and suddenly he wants to pull away, to lick his wounds in private.

Now he looks like the monster, he will never have Nick.

His strength of purpose does not desert him now. Calmly he sits up, moves his hand away from Nick’s, listens to the doctor’s instructions and gets to his feet. And thanks the detective, calmly, politely, so distantly.

All Nick can do is stand there and take it, because he caused this, and this is much worse than anything he’s done before. How can he take this back?

For the first time in his life, Nick Burkhardt heads out to get utterly smashed out of his mind.

Sean retreats to his beautiful home, and finds some anesthetic of his own, in the bottle of very expensive bourbon, at some point he may have even sent out for more.

Nick’s bought a couple of bottles of tequila from the store, and is heading to Aunt Marie’s trailer. He doesn’t want witnesses to his humiliation.

He curses his thoughtless words that hurt the Captain, how the Captain had lost his baby that night but that didn’t stop Nick, now he’s physically hurt because of Nick.

He remembers the look in those green eyes. Not accusation, sorrow. Sorrow that his friend thought so little of him…

Nick slugs the cheap and nasty tequila back.

He’s late to work, of course, because he woke up late, in a mess in his trailer, and had to pull himself together to go get a shower and a change of clothes, because he slept in the ones he was wearing from the day before.

The ones that he has only just realized have Renard’s blood splattered on them.

The Captain’s in his office, calm, ordered, carrying on business as usual, only the white dressing on his damaged cheek saying that anything’s different.

The white dressing that’s like a personal accusation. Though Renard’s said nothing, and Nick knows that he won’t either.

So it’s up to Nick, but Nick’s too befuddled and too miserable to do anything about his transgressions.

Wu sighs with irritation and shoots a look at Hank. Hank rolls his eyes and raises his eyebrows, what the hell does Wu think that Hank can do about it?

Hank Griffin is a smart man, he’s been around the block, and despite his many marriages knows attraction when he sees it. For a long time now, the Captain has been casting the odd longing look in a certain detective’s direction.

Nick’s attraction is much more recent, but it’s there. Even if he doesn’t seem to know it.

Hank scowls. It’s plain to anyone who knows them a little and has watched them as much as Hank and Wu have that they are into each other, and equally plain that they are miserable without.

Then there’s whatever the hell is going on in Nick Burkhardt’s head.

There are times when Hank wished that he hadn’t been dragged into the crazy that was his partner’s life, and times that he really, really wished that he didn’t know about the feelings that his partner and their boss had for each other. The Captain’s very painful encounter was a direct result of those feelings, even if Renard was not about to publically acknowledge that. But Hank knew their boss knew it.

Wu sees the look on the Captain’s face when he looks up from his laptop, and Nick’s directly in his eye line. It’s the look of sorrow as though the Captain’s lost something infinitely precious which gets to him. But it’s when the Captain turns back to his laptop, a thoroughly unhappy look on his face, and Sean is usually so good at shielding; and Nick looks up from the photocopier and gazes at the Captain like a kicked puppy that Wu decides that enough is enough.

He decides that he needs a coffee run, and a phone call. There is one person he is certain can fix all of this.

Elizabeth Lascelles is a remarkable woman, one that actually scares the living daylights out of Wu, but she is the Captain’s mother, so when she asked Wu for occasional news of her son, he wasn’t about to refuse. Besides, he likes to think of himself as useful, and he knows he really can’t fix this.

So Sergeant Wu calls the Captain’s mother, and isn’t that a turn up for the books.

When Elizabeth turns up within half an hour or so of Wu calling, he wonders if she is psychic, or had she seen the Captain on the morning’s news slot, holding the press conference with a great big bandage on his face.

Elizabeth hangs back, the better to observe her son and his Grimm. Her son might present an impassive face to the world, and he is the consummate professional, but if Wu can see through his façade things have gotten to a bad point. The Grimm is still easier to read, but then Nick is young, and more emotional than Sean, and Elizabeth is intrigued by the read she is getting from him.

It’s ironic she supposes, Sean is grieving, not for the loss of his looks, because he’s still a very handsome man, and there are things she can do for his injury, but for what he thinks is the loss of a chance with Nick.

Back when she discovered she was a grandmother, Sean had told her everything, he always did; so Elizabeth knows what Nick said to Sean, and she can see Nick’s having trouble dealing with something. She guesses that’s it, because the longing looks he’s giving his Captain suggest the exact opposite of what she instinctively knows her son is feeling about how Nick views Sean.

Time to fix the problems. She walks into her son’s office.

Sean is both pleased and concerned to see his mother, but when she puts her hand to his injured cheek and gives him that special look, he closes his eyes and lets her calmness wash over him. It still hurts, but less than it did. Both his cheek and his confused feelings over Nick.

Elizabeth reads his mind easily. She’s his mother.

“It’s time we fixed this. Since you and your Grimm are never going to do this on your own, I think I will take Nick out to dinner.”

Sean frowns warningly, forgetting for a second that it takes forty-two muscles to frown, and a significant number of them have stitches in. That really does hurt, and he winces. 

Elizabeth puts her hand to his face again. “Sean.”

He closes his eyes, and nods. “Okay.”

She gives him that impish grin which makes him regret his acquiescence. “Don’t pressure him.”

She rolls her eyes fondly. “No more than he is already pressuring himself.”

He smiles at his mother. The smile is a little lopsided, because it takes twenty eight muscles to smile, and there are still stitches.

“We will be fine.” She runs two fingers very lightly across his brow, “I will fix this.”

He doesn’t really believe her, because he knows that look in Nick’s eyes from the woge, and he’s a police officer, he prefers actual evidence.

Elizabeth is the mother of a son, she knows about sons, and their feelings, and how things get twisted up.

She pauses by Nick’s desk. Up close, the bags beneath his eyes, the dark smudges from sheer exhaustion and the obvious way his head is bothering him, speak volumes.

Dinner is a quiet affair, firstly because Nick is wary, she’s his Captain’s mother, but she’s also a hexenbiest; then he kinda feels vaguely insulted because hey, he’s the Grimm, and Elizabeth seems amused by his tale of woe.

He’s hangdog, and just a little bit sulky when she says, cryptically, “we’re always prepared to forgive more from those we love.”

He stares at her.

Her eyes narrow, and Nick cannot be certain if she’s judging him or not, “do you love my son?”

He sits there, open mouthed, wheels spinning in his mind as he tries to put it all together.

She knows then, even if he doesn’t, that Nick’s attempts to apologize to Sean have been deeply personal.

“What happened, it wasn’t your fault.”

“But, I…” he wants to protest. She shakes her head.

“My son has always taken his responsibilities very seriously. He stepped in, to protect you. He’s always been protective.”

“It was…”

“Not your fault.”

He looks down at his plate. “His face…”

She smiles then, warm, understanding, gentle, and this is something he thought he would never say about a hexenbiest, but he feels in tune with her. As though things will work out.

“Sean will be fine. When the wound’s healed you won’t even know it’s there.”

“I…” he tries to tell her about what he said, but she lays her hand over his and gently squeezes.

“I know. And so does he.”

Nick blushes then. He doesn’t feel he deserves her understanding, or Sean’s; but he realizes something else too, he’s been calling his Captain, Sean for sometime now.

He feels lighter. “I think I need to go and explain something to someone now.” Their eyes meet in understanding, and Elizabeth signals for their waiter.

All the way over to Sean’s place, Nick tries to work out what he’s going to say, then he’s standing at the front door and knocking, and when the door opens every single thought flies out of his head.

“Nick.”

Sean looks wary, and Nick feels sick that he caused that, but there’s something different, and he’s going on instinct here as he steps forward into his Captain’s personal space. They’re standing there, just staring at each other, and Nick finally realizes what’s different. The dressing is gone, there’s this neat line of stitches, and Nick puts his hand up, to gently touch just beneath the wound.

Sean’s expression is wary, but he’s doing nothing to stop Nick, or turn away.

Nick looks up into Sean’s face, his hand barely ghosting the stitched skin. “I’m sorry.” He whispers, and he needs no further explanation, because Sean steps forward then, and he’s pulling Nick hard against him, and Nick’s lips are on Sean’s, then tongues entwine and suddenly the things that Nick had said no longer seem relevant.

............

There’s a fairly long, undignified trail of clothing scattered along the passage to the master bedroom. The Captain’s shirt is minus all its buttons, on the floor next to the bed, one of Nick’s socks dangles from the headboard, the sheets have been energetically rumpled, and they lie, happily sated in the mess.

Nick rolls onto his back, pulling Renard over him. The powerfully built Captain catches his full weight on his elbows, thighs bracket Nick’s hips, as he pins the smaller Grimm to the mattress.

Nick looks up. “Woge for me, Sean.”

The green eyes look incredulous for a second or two, but Sean Renard is an accomplished poker player.

He stares down into the eyes of his Grimm. “Mine!” He growls possessively. And woges.

It takes forty-two muscles to frown, and twenty-eight to smile, but it takes a whole other bunch of stitched together muscle, and love to woge for your Grimm.


End file.
